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Dominic cleared his throat at last. “I am free,” he said, as if to assure himself of the truth of it.
“You ar
e free?” she repeated.
“I am. Free as a bird.”
He straightened up, looking around him, and then found what he was looking for. “Here, put on your shoes, my love. Make haste. We are going to be married at once.”
“Dominic, no.”
He stopped and stared at her, and she shook her head at him in exasperation. “I am not saying ‘no’. I am saying ‘no’ to this haste. Why don’t we marry in England?”
“We can. We will. But we will also marry now, here in Verona.” He was back, caging her in the chair again, and this time he placed one hand gently upon her slightly protruding stomach. “You are carrying my heir and by God he will be born a Frampton.”
“What if she hadn’t died?” Margaret asked, suddenly chilled by the thought that their child would not have been as important to him then. “If our child had been born a bastard and not a Frampton?”
He shook his head. “It would merely have complicated matters,” he said, and then noting her stubborn face, went on to explain. “If necessary I would have brought all my powers to bear, to make certain he inherited. But now there will be no need.”
“How do you know the baby is a ‘he’?” she asked.
“I don’t. Now up, my love!” he ordered in his arrogant way.
“Dominic,” she sighed, but she couldn’t resist him. She stood up and let him slide his arm about her waist and hold her close. “Are we really returning to England?” she asked.
“Yes. Back to the Abbey and back to Mockingbird Square. I am looking forward to seeing the expressions on the faces of our neighbours, aren’t you?”
She thought about it. Was she? She expected everyone would know, or at least guess, about her ruination. But she had decided when she said yes to running off with him that she would let love be enough. Whether they were married or not, what other people thought and said wasn’t going to interfere with her happiness.
It had been so easy living here, just the two of them, and Margaret knew things would not be so uncomplicated in England.
“I hoped we could stay here a little longer,” she said, with a wistful note in her voice.
He paused, looking down at her, and she knew he read all of her thoughts and fears in her face. “We’ll come back,” he promised. Then, leaning close enough to brush his lips over hers, added, “I love you. I will always love you. I loved you when you were the vicar’s daughter and I will love you when you’re the earl’s wife.”
She stroked her fingers over his jaw. “And I love my arrogant, overbearing earl.”
They looked deep into each other’s eyes, lost in this special moment, until Dominic clasped her hand in his and marched toward the door.
“Come,” he said. “We have no time to waste. Let’s get married, Margaret!”
